make maps

Goodnight n y c,

Its morning now.

    The lost ones are awakening from naps, the found ones falling into inebriated comas.

  And someones always keeping you company

  They stayed up,

To look at the city lights, with unfocused eyes,

And pretend their fireflies

    The dreamers

And naïve who still heat up from possibilities.

Of tomorrow,

    Running into unmet loves,

Searching for a reason… to stop running.

Finding a reason.. to love themselves.

    With millions of people,

and bricks stacked up toward heaven

No question,

You’d find magic that’s suitable

    And if  things gets too hectic…

Maybe..

Those ever-present lights.

Give you just enough hope.

To keep searching.

"Hi Malaika

  I was trying to find your great grandmothers obituary online at the Detroit Free Press newspaper but didn't see it.  I guess no one submitted an obituary.  But I did see two obituaries you may be interested in.  The Free Press photographer and fashion editor passed away...I guess they may have job openings."

I spent hours sitting idle on couches. Fascinated by fog in the air exiting from mouths not of my own,ladies lounging stroking each other’s hair, cats shyly caressing the inside of lower legs.  Days upon days, doing nothing much.In an coma of head nods, and second hand smoke. But it was the music that truly kept me still.

Still and centered, and as I looked around it was clear that everyone else, though filled with state altering substance, was affected in the same way. It was the beat that moved us all, propelling out necks, connecting out minds, turning all physicals into no matters.  I came home smelling like slight sin. Mommy would say something but always gave me the benefit of the doubt. She said “Malaika..mind the company you keep.” I wanted to tell her I was at church-engulfed in the holy spirit, flirting with salvation through sound waves. Don’t believe me? This is testimony. 

-malaika aminata